


I'll bless this love till I die

by amarepluvia



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: A3! Part/ACT 2 Spoilers, Con Artist!Homare, Con Artists, Inspired by Anastasia (1997 & Broadway), Long Lost/Secret Relatives, M/M, Partners in Crime, They fall in love eventually, Thief!Hisoka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26816110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarepluvia/pseuds/amarepluvia
Summary: In a chance of fate, a man of many faces and one of no past, cohort to an elaborate scheme with the latter posing as a once presumed dead prince in an exchange of a hundred million gold.“Do you want me to rip your tongue?”“My, are you entrancing…”
Relationships: Arisugawa Homare/Mikage Hisoka
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. In search of your virgin eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired to write this when I listened to "My Petersburg" and "In A Crowd Of Thousands" from the Anastasia Broadway Production. Exactly a month ago, I tweeted this and it just lived on my mind rent free since then so I just had to put it to words. I've been meaning to study their characters for awhile now so I thought this would be a chance for me to explore them in different settings. Nothing is set in stone yet, and there's still much to be revealed so I hope you'll support this as my first multi-chapter! <3

_It was July, the sun was as hot as ever and the streets were like fields of flowers. Color reigned the sky, there was no sight of a cloud nor the call of the night to bid them rain._

_Through the crowd, a young boy ran, holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, eager to catch up to the golden float that stole the parade. He ran and jumped, trying to make a scene to catch the young Prince, December’s, eye._

_“Your majesty, Prince December! Let me read you a poem!” The young boy shouted, pushing through the crowd and dodging the guards that blocked his way._

_“December, ignore him.” April firmly said, but the young prince could not help but notice the scrappy looking child who was so desperate to catch his eye. So he stood on top of his throne, causing April to hold him down, while their father, August began to laugh._

_“Please meet me sometime and I would gladly hear it!” The prince replied, holding tightly to his seat on one hand and waving the other. He wrinkled his eyes and let out a wide smile that would’ve been improper, April was going to scold him later but it didn’t matter._

_The young boy, whose heart began to race at the sight of it, had gracefully bowed and as for what it’s worth an invisible string had wrapped within the tips of their fingers, but with the ray of light that washed their eyes and severed it, they never met again._

A warm breeze brushed Homare’s hair as he walked towards the exit of the ship with a suitcase in hand. It was just like that day, a hot summer afternoon with not a cloud to break its heat. 

“I see, even the air is unwelcoming of a genius like me.” 

It was quite foolish for him to suddenly reminisce on the past like that, maybe it’s because he’s back to the country he used to live in. 

Well, twelve years have passed since the God revolution that wiped out half of the population of the country Veludo; once ruled by the Mankai family. The family had fallen to ruins, with its only living patriarch escaping to a foreign country. 

The land that once prospered was now a poverty-stricken wasteland, without a cent to give to the helpless, anyone would be disheartened. 

As he waited for a cab, he noticed that in front of the dock were the old tracks of the train Homare had rode and escaped in during the revolution. Some things have truly changed since Homare had stepped into this land again, yet he had no sort of hope that things would have gone better than what he had left. 

“Taxi! I seek a ride, if I may ask you to take me to this boutique?” He entered the backseat of the taxi and took a pen and notebook out.

Homare sat quietly with only the sound of his pen scratching the paper present. 

_The briar rose remains untouched_

_No weeping tale can fill it’s solitude_

He came here on an impulse, intrigued by a strange rumor that a dead man might as well be alive and that his breath could cost a hefty sum to anyone who could find him. Homare wasn’t in it for cheap tricks but for the thrill of it; like a game of chess with the hungry and greedy and all he needed was his greatest pawn; a fool who had nothing to lose and a man of his character and liking, but before he could set out for him, he needed to set the stage first.

Veludo was the perfect place to utilize his childish party tricks. 

Homare took a glance at the window, and he was right. Veludo was worse than what he expected.

The streets of Veludo were unkempt, the pavement was cracked and tangled with weeds, the windows of stores were but broken glass, and bodies of trash created a sea of its own. It had never been this way– not in the main streets, but in the corners were Homare lived this was a familiar sight to see.

“Even gold can rust.” Homare muttered.

When he left the country, it was still the same for him; always starving and desperate to survive. The only difference was that he became smarter and learned from all the ways men could fail creating tricks and schemes of his own. 

He ran frauds and schemes after the other and never got caught. Perhaps it was because he was a genius or that the human mind is incapable to catch such an enigma like him.

Whatever it is, it might’ve just been his pure luck.

“We’re here.” The driver coughed, signalling him to leave.

Homare paid the fine and exited the vehicle. There, he stood in front of a small brick building with a window of mannequins, dressed in work attire, hung to catch the passerby’s eye.

He needed to take a uniform, a private school one’s specifically, and from what he’d recall this was the only place that tailored it. So he walked up to the front of it and gently opened the door where the sound of a bell began to ring, catching the attention of a young boy.

“How can I help you?” The boy with light green hair asked Homare with a smile. It didn’t seem to be the customer service kind but rather the ‘I dare you to’ kind. 

Homare looked around, and there was not a single person but them in the boutique, “Must’ve been a hard day.” he scoffed.

“You could say it was… so just tell me what’ve you come to pay for?” The boy retorted, crossing his legs and slumping them on the cashier desk with his hands flipping through a newspaper.

_Tough one, huh._

“I suppose I could look around?” Homare asked.

“Do whatever.” 

Homare began to switch his face to a bored expression to mimic the boy. He walked around the mannequins of the boutique touching the fabrics of the clothing.

“These are some cheap silk.” Homare glanced at the boy.

“Times are hard. It’s the best we could find…” He responded while rolling his eyes and keeping them locked on what he was reading. It was another boring day for the boy, there was nothing out of the ordinary not even from a peculiar sounding customer. 

“I see, you know my father used to own a silk manufacturing company here in Veludo. Though it crumbled.” 

“Wait- Sir, you happen to be speaking of _the_ silk manufacturing company?” The boy’s eyes were fixed on Homare compared to before he was intrigued.

“Yes, you’ve heard of it?” Homare paused, his eyes still fixated at the mannequin gently stroking the fabric as if he were analyzing it. 

“Yes sir! before it went out of business, they were one of our biggest suppliers. We suffered greatly from the loss.”

“Wow, what a coincidence… father decided to take it to the North and we’ve planned to open internationally again. Mayhaps it is a stroke of fate?”

Of course, that’s a lie. The silk company this boy is so eager about had been gone for years now but not from just going out of business. That’s what they say, but it’s actually because of a huge embezzlement from the higher-ups. It only passes from the word of mouth, since diving deeper could get you into a lot of trouble which is why normal citizens haven’t heard of it. 

“Do you happen to be planning to open a branch here?” The boy inquired.

“We are, are you perhaps you’re interested?” Homare raised a brow, glancing as the boy who was pondering a response.

“M-Maybe! I’d take a card and a deal if you had.” He answered.

“Sure. I just need a St. Flora’s uniform. free of charge.” Homare proposed, all he needed was for the boy to take his bait.

“Why would you need one?”

“Actually I came here for our highschool reunion and it’s in an hour. I had only received word that we must be wearing our school uniform when we enter. I’ve been helping my father out flying country to country and I was not able to pack one.” He sighed, resting his hand to his forehead.

“Geez, do you stick the silk up your nose?” The boy arched his brow. “But it can’t be helped, it would suck to see you stranded outside of that snotty school. Hold on, we have uniforms somewhere here.” he uncrossed his legs and left his chair walking around the store checking the drawers.

“That’s no way to speak to your future supplier,” Homare continued, now standing next to the counter watching the boy search through piles of clothing, “What’s your name, young lad?” 

“Yuki Rurikawa.” he replied, still fumbling through the drawers of clothing. 

“Send my regards to your parents, young boy. Here’s my card for the transactions.” Homare slipped a fake business card on the counter, but the boy was too busy looking for the uniform there’d be no time for him to verify. 

“Here’s the uniform. It’s on me, no need for returns.” Yuki said as he handed Homare a box with a light purple and cream navy uniform with a green ribbon attached to it. 

“Call me in a few days, I’ll take this uniform as a collateral for our transaction.” He affirmed, as the boy bowed proudly, thinking he had successfully made a deal with the latter. 

Homare slowly stepped out of the boutique with the box of the uniform. That was easy. _Too easy_. His strategy was a mere bluff, yet a young boy who had wits was even able to fall for it.

He took out his pocket watch, “Oh my! If I hadn’t checked the time, I would have been late for my next trip.” Soon after, he hailed a cab.

“Please take me to _20D Clockworth street, Veludo Way._ ” to which the driver responded with a nod and went on his way. It took a few minutes for him to get to the location, but he still had time to spare.

So before heading in, Homare had changed into the uniform he had taken from Yuki’s store in a public restroom a few buildings away. He patted the uniform, ironing the crinkles with his hand, and combing his hair with his fingers. He took out his notebook and pen and made his way to the front door of his next victim’s office, a well-connected writer who with his name, could get Homare anywhere.

* * *

The telephone rang and the woman seated on the cluttered desk answered it, her eyes met with Homare’s as she covered one end of the phone with her hand and spoke, “Mr. Tybalt, you can enter now.” 

Alice Tybalt, was nothing but an alias for Homare. He was no fool to go around telling everyone and anyone who he was. For this, he had to pretend to be a student from a private school’s newspaper club as it was only here that he could talk to the man who’s help he needed.

“Ah, t-thank you.” 

Homare stood up from where he was seated, dawning an awful but quite convincing nervous look on his face. He tightly gripped his pen and notebook as he dragged his feet towards the door. As he turned the knob and pushed it, he was welcomed with dust clogging his lungs as he knelt to the floor.

“Oh! You’re here. I forgot to clean the room, I was catching up to a deadline you see.” A disheveled man walked towards him, offering him a handkerchief to block the dust.

If he were not Alice, he would have complained that this was no place for art to grow. It was a room with books on the table and what Homare presumed were drafted manuscripts collecting dust on the corners. 

“Have a seat over there and I’ll answer all your questions.” The man helped Homare up, lifting him towards a seat that was next to another cluttered desk.

“It’s so great to meet you Mr. Tsuzuru Minagi! I’ve been quite a fan of your work.” Homare beamed, his eyes wide and glaring excitedly at Tsuzuru. 

Tsuzuru, who sat opposite to him, let out a nervous laugh, “I’d like to say the same to you too… Alice Tybalt? My secretary had told me you were visiting but I could hardly believe your name was real.”

“I get it all the time! Mother and father were quite the Shakespeareans you see, even the registrar at St. Flora kept glaring at me while she typed out my name; quite strange, or rather peculiar is it not? “

“Although, I’d like to end with the pleasantries and know more about you.” 

“You’re quite eager.” Tsuzuru coaxed.

“How could I ever waste the time of a bestselling writer?” Homare swiftly replied, it was obviously spoken to get on Tsuzuru’s good side.

Tsuzuru let out a laugh, wiping tears out of his eyes. “I like you kid, flattery will get you anywhere. Now you’re from the newspaper club of your school? What are you so interested to know about?”

“You see Sir, I wanted to be somewhat of a poet myself, but I don’t know where to start. I thought a guy like you could help a lad out.” Homare coaxed.

Tsuzuru would’ve told anyone who asked to just write but this kid felt different and he wanted to help him out.

“Times have been hard since the revolution, you think it’s easy making a name for yourself in a dying industry?” 

“I-I love it Sir. Veludo used to be a land so rich in literature, there’s no harm in bringing back what’s lost.” Homare pressed.

Tsuzuru felt pity for such a determined kid. In truth, Veludo was attempting to revive the beauty of literature in their country as they were once known for the land of great scholars, poets, and writers, it was the perfect place to thrive for the arts. 

Though since the revolution, it was so hard to gain an education or make a name for yourself at all. He understood where the child had come from to ask someone who has accomplished what he wishes to after all. 

He wishes he could say more, as the air was filled with an awkward amount of pressure for a response.

Tsuzuru coughed to ease the silence, “I see. Writing is quite tricky, especially if you don’t know the right people. I can get you to meet some men from a private club from around here- connections can get you anywhere and you seem like the kind with potential. Here.” Tsuzuru took out a card within the pocket of his pants. 

Homare grabbed the card as he rose from his seat and clasped the writer’s hands, “I’ll never forget this gratitude kind Sir!”

“Please, if you wish to know more, I’d be glad to help a young student like you.” Tsuzuru smiled. Though there was something on Tsuzuru’s mind, there was something about the boy that didn’t feel right, but before he could ask he was disrupted by ringing of the telephone on his desk.

“Hold on, I’ll get it.” Tsuzuru rushingly replied.

“Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.” Homare thought it was a signal for him to leave, gently opening and closing the door. 

As the door closed, Tsuzuru felt an air of uncertainty towards the boy he just met. He felt like a colleague rather than a boy who was still testing the water but perhaps he was wrong.

A boy of many faces so it seemed, but Tsuzuru believes they’ll never meet again and maybe it’s for the best.

* * *

There was only one hotel left in Veludo, and it was only for the upper class to afford.

It was lined in gold that painted itself on the walls but also on the necks of foreign traders and businessmen. 

It was a brisk of shock when a man with bright red magenta hair walked into the place and would enter with only a suitcase to his name. Homare didn’t seem to mind, they must’ve felt his incomparable intelligence, if so, he can’t help but take their gawk and stares. He made his way through the sea of glares and went to the front desk.

“Room reservation for Alice.” Despite what he was wearing, the man was quite charming. His dark magenta hair, and his bright ruby eyes were spellbinding. 

“I don’t think there’s one under that name, Sir.” The front desk woman replied, still despite that, she can’t help but smile at the enchanting stranger.

Homare tucked her hair in and gave her a tight lipped smile, “I suggest you check it again.”

“Ah-uh- right! Oh would you look at that.. your name’s right here Mr. Alice Tybalt. Here are your keys. I apologize, let me get someone to take your suitcase.” The woman reached for his suitcase.

“No need. I can bring it myself.” Homare clutched the handle tightly pulling it away from her hand, with one hand resting in his pocket, and made his way to the elevator.

Upon reaching his room, Homare threw his suitcase to the bed. He took out a gold chain necklace from his pocket, which he had stolen from the neck of the front desk woman.

Soon after, an endless ringing of the clanging of gold would echo the hotel room. Homare had finished his business for today, but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t picked up a few pieces of gold or two from everyone he encountered.

He had taken a thread of gold from the boutique, an expensive ink from Mr. Tsuzuru’s desk, and even some pieces of jewelry from the people who were busy admiring him.

Homare used to think that the human mind was but an enigma, it was an insatiable curiosity that was beyond his reach. It all changed when he grew up and saw all the ways a man could fail; learning from their mistakes he understood what made people vulnerable and that was emotions. 

To understand and to be truly understood is what makes his job easier after all; just playing from what he knows- to derive from logic and speak of art from a way he and the heavens could only know is a way for him to establish boundaries. 

With his trove of treasury sinking on the mattress of his bed, Homare sat next to its frame scribbling a new verse on what he was working on.

_Alas! I come in search of your virgin eyes,_

_as whooshing wistful utters trail the stars to you._

_Ah, that was quite outstanding._ Homare thought, glaring at the stanza he had written. In minutes, he had sat still spacing out whilst clicking his pen. A gentle trail of light would caress his crimson red eyes. The midnight breeze began to brush his cheek, it felt quite cold, like a block of ice had touched it.

He closed his eyes to aching to shape this ice cold feeling to the warm touch of a hand. The winter was coming soon and he had no time to spare but for some reason, he wanted to stay still and seize this moment.

Well, that was until he heard a clack of a gun being reloaded.

 _What a surprising turn of events._ Homare thought as he was unable to glance at whoever had trampled on his poetic moment.


	2. Dwindled Emeralds

It was past eleven, the cold midnight air waltz with the curtains. It was quiet, one could hear the gust of the wind or the song of a cricket; it was a serene moment that only Homare, the moon, and the person who stood next to him could hear. He wanted to jot down another stanza, an ode to the fair maiden of the night, but it seems the fellow next to him would’ve taken a shot to his head before he could even write a line.  
Homare hadn’t even figured out that the door to his balcony was unlocked nor did he consider opening it. Whoever stood next to him had gone through it quite stealthily, rather than be bathed in fear he was quite impressed. He could hear their gentle breaths next to him, and the faint reflection of sharp green eyes haunting the shiny silver pistol next to his right temple.

“Don’t move.” They breathily whispered, with a pistol on one hand, as the stranger used their other hand to take some pieces from the riches on the bed.

_“Ah, it’s just a thief,” Homare thought to himself, giving out a sigh of relief._

From his track record, it could’ve been some man with a grudge, like the boy from the boutique or the writer he had met. It was a unique change of pace from any other of his life-threatening experiences, figures he was not one to be fazed by some thief at all. In fact, he was the man with the upper hand.

As the stranger’s attention was still within stealing what he had stolen, Homare slapped the gun from his grasp and it slid towards the balcony. This gave an opening for Homare to pin the stranger against the floor.

For a fleeting second his heart had thumped as the man’s silver locks had caved a curtain to his face, revealing his unevenly shaded eyes.

Caught in the trance of the stranger, he had loosened his grip to which the stranger responded with a kick. Their positions were switched, but this time the thief had pulled a knife from his back with one of his hands interlocked while pinning Homare to the floor, and the other pointing the knife’s tip in a length that could puncture his neck.

They were barely meters far from each other, with only a knife between them. The ends of the thief’s silver lined locks were resting on Homare cheeks, revealing his green eyes, one lighter than the other. Homare couldn’t help but weakly chant, “Dwindled emeralds beseech the eyes of midnight’s lover, He ties his tongue to the sun and swoons in ecstasy!”

“Do you want me to rip _your_ tongue?” The thief scoffed, recasting his aim to Homare’s lips yet the man did not even move, as if he were frozen in place. There was just the echo of their breaths and the whimper of the stars, their crimson and emerald basked eyes fusing in tension.

Homare was not the kind who could stay silent, but his body felt too heavy and weak to even respond. It must’ve been from the way the thief had pinned him down, still, he could not let his thoughts just reside on his mind.

“My, are you entrancing…” Homare blurted out, he wasn’t even aware of what was happening nor could he even feel the edge of the knife marking the edges of his lips. His eyes were locked on the green-eyed thief who just stared at him in disbelief.

He was dressed in poor and thin clothing, with hair unkempt about to poke Homare’s eyes, and he looked quite young, maybe around Homare’s age. Although what struck the con man the most was his uncanny resemblance to Veludo’s long lost prince.

It was perfect. He had found the perfect pawn for his game. He came here in search of a man who could play the presumed dead but rumored to be alive brother of Prince April who was safely residing in a foreign country. From what he heard; the prince was ever so willing to pay a hefty sum to anyone who could even find his long lost brother. It would’ve made sense to find some boy from Veludo, one who could speak their mother tongue, or just be able to adapt to this land seeing as this was where they had grown up. Homare had planned to go the extra mile and tweak their appearance, but this, this thief who was pinning him against the floor had hit the jackpot.

The emerald green eyes, the soft silver hair, and the porcelain skin had resembled that prince. If he could join hands with him, it would only take a few lessons on etiquette and history to make him seem like the real thing. Now, all he needed to do was take a moment of his time to converse, and the most unconventional method had come up on his mind.

So, with what little strength he could muster, Homare clenched his right fist and swiftly punched the thief’s chin knocking him unconscious. The thief had mumbled a few words before he collapsed into Homare’s chest. His heart was rushing from an unexpected adrenaline, he could barely pace his breaths.

He slowly lifted himself up from the floor carrying the thief, and gently laid him on the bed while tying each of his hands to the ends with some cloth he had taken from the bed. He closed the door to the balcony and locked it then walked towards the sofa next to the bed where he sat still catching his breath.

“I bid you forgive me.” Homare muttered as he stared at the thief’s body, who was knocked out cold. A glimpse of light peaked the glass balcony door, and it dawned on him that it was already morning.

Tints of orange began to grace his sight and the man; a self-proclaimed paramour of the sky could not even fathom the words to grasp its beauty. So as minutes passed, all he could do was stare in the absence of the stars and the flock of birds possessing its glory.

In a fleeting moment, a tear had escaped his eyes, I lived once more, he had cried in his mind. Most days, Homare had just slept through the night unsure and uncertain of what was to come, but this sudden surge of assurance- of hope like a rising sun had lifted his chest. His heart had longed for this feeling of knowing rather than to pretend to be all-knowing yet despite that it is the latter that helps him survive in the end.

For the first time in a thousand nights, Homare had slept without an ounce of fear in his mind.

* * *

  
“Mr. Thief, you’re awake! Nice to meet you, I’m Homare.” Homare cheered, his enthusiastic greeting had rang a shock to the man’s ear. Homare was seated at a sofa by the balcony door holding an assorted platter of strawberries.

“This is extraordinary! A vivacious feast of the luminous red tide had taken each heart for a stroll, swirling around the milky way…!” He exclaimed, taking a bite once more, with a satisfied look on his face.

“You’re loud.” The thief groaned.

“You jest? A mind of an artistic genius could never be silenced!” Homare boastfully replied.

The thief raised a brow at him, if he had known that a guy like him was residing in this room he wouldn’t have entered. He was annoyingly loud and the kind of guy he would’ve stood a great distance from, except that same guy had tied him to his bed after he caught him stealing his possessions so he just let out a sigh.

“So, Mr. Thief,” Homare paused, taking another bite and looking back at the man. “Is there a noble cause as to why you had thought to trespass into my room in the dead of night? I work for the government, so it’s best you just tell me everything. ” He bluffed, glancing at the thief who’s eyes were cold and lifeless.

I guess I’ll just come clean now. The man figured he was some rich man from a foreign country, rather than lying that it would have been better to come clean and be sent to jail. Even he knew that jail was better than another hour in this hellhole. Perhaps it was the fact he had nothing to lose; no home, no family, nor a stomach of food. All he wanted was to take enough to eat, in fact, he was jealous of Homare who was leisurely eating across him.”

“I was hungry.” He replied.

  
“What’s your name?” Homare asked.

“I think it’s Hisoka…” He responded once more.

“Pardon me, but you think? How can you be unsure of your own name?” Homare inquired as it was such a strange response.

“I have no memories other than that.” Hisoka coldly responded, perhaps Homare had touched a sensitive spot. Unknowingly he continued, “I woke up in an orphanage, they told me I hit my head on some railroad tracks and was saved by one of the nuns. After a few months, I ran away from the orphanage and learned to steal. Seeing as where I am right now, I may not be good at it.”

He’s too honest, Homare thought to himself, it may have been the fact that he thought he was being interrogated.

“My! Did you honestly think I’d send you to prison?” Homare coaxed, a soft chuckle escaped his lips. “I have something better than that in mind..” Homare continued, there he stood up taking his platter of assorted strawberries and towards the bed where Hisoka was still tied up and sat next to it.

He took a piece of strawberry and gently placed it in front of Hisoka’s lips slowly pushing it in, the latter had just taken it in obediently making his tongue lick the tip of Homare’s fingers. So on and so for, there was just a silent exchange of Homare feeding Hisoka and him eating it up so willingly.

The gentle touch of Homare fingers against Hisoka’s lips felt warm. Fragments of the sun had slept on sheets of the bed with some of it seeping into Homare’s eyes that like wine, had Hisoka drowning in its pleasure. Homare had felt the same way too, in awe of Hisoka’s eyes that were different tints of green. He wanted to burst out another stanza, but for some reason he was chained to this warm silence and he didn’t want to ruin this moment.

Homare broke the silence as he paused before letting Hisoka take another bite, “So what do you think about taking a hundred million gold from a prince?” he nonchalantly asked.


	3. The devil's ballad is a song of fate

“Why do you look so happy? It's annoying me.” Hisoka scoffed, his teeth clenched at Homare who was devilishly grinning back at him pulling the strawberry back and forth.

Homare continued to tease him, “Oh such a priceless look! Have I treated you so much as a spoilt lover? You must’ve thought I jest, but certainly I do not. Ah, I dropped it,” the strawberry had fallen from his grasp and dropped the floor. Hisoka groaned, _“how careless”_ he thought.

Of course, that fallen piece of fruit was not the elephant in the room but simply a distraction. Homare had seen that Hisoka looked quite shocked and partly confused at his sudden invitation after all, so he broke the suffocating air to a much lighter one instead. Soon after, he stood up and walked towards the balcony and opened it letting the curtains fly with the sudden burst of wind. 

“It’s cold.” Hisoka muttered, it was quite chilly, something even Hisoka could not stand and he lived through all the seasons barefoot and alone. The seasons are changing and winter is coming and Hisoka is beginning to feel terrified. 

The Winter though as dashing as white snow had always felt like a loss for him. It was time to mourn the loss of trees or the warmth of the sun as blankets to his nights. There was nothing that bloomed so strongly that it caught Hisoka’s eyes but instead tormented it with memories that faintly sing in his dreams.

_What a pain._

“How treacherous!” 

Hisoka flinched and glanced at Homare whose hand had rested on his forehead as he released a deep sigh. A few seconds later he noticed that Homare’s hands began to hold the hems of the thin curtain’s cloth restraining it, when suddenly he released it and the cloth had flown freely once more much to Hisoka’s surprise. Homare’s eyes that were gazing at the freely flowing curtain a mere second ago had locked with Hisoka’s.

“The Winter has always been a pain in Mankai, hasn’t it?” The man uttered so casually as if he’d known it all too well. His ear to ear smile that followed after a short pause had tied a knot in Hisoka’s lungs. Still the curtains wooshed, the winter traced near, and the faint noise of chattering never ended yet he could not help but felt as if time had stopped for a moment and slowly ticked back. How stupidly familiar, and how much it stings but sadly he could not figure out what’s causing it.

“How improper.” Hisoka could only respond, yet that simple softly spoken thought could make Homare look back at him askanced.

“Am I? I ought you’d see me so genuinely after all we’d become partners!” Homare countered, letting out a tight lipped smile, perhaps he felt wary but he pushed it aside, surely it was not an ignition from a memory of _that_ day. He comforted himself, thinking he was reading into this man too much just out of familiarity.

“Eh. I didn’t say…. I agreed...” Hisoka replied, the man was too straightforward and loud. Had he forgotten that he tied him up against the bed after he attempted to rob him?

“Then I shall tell you all about it again.” Homare declared clasping his hands, making his way towards the edge of the bed much more distant to Hisoka compared to before.

“Persistent.” Hisoka scoffed, attempting to kick Homare who slowly backed off.

“We, geniuses, prefer to call it ‘passionate’...” Homare continued but began to go straight to his point, “Prince April had claimed his brother was still alive, so many set forth to find him for that hefty promised sum.” said Homare, he took a piece of paper out of his pocket revealing a ripped page from last week’s newspaper headline. He lifted it up to Hisoka’s eye level, giving him a better view of what had been inscribed.

In the center of the page was a rough sketch of a boy with his hair swept back and his hand clutched to a throne and waving in the other, brightly smiling to what seemed to be a crowd. How it left an awful taste to Hisoka’s tongue as the sweet taste of strawberry had been poisoned by anemones. Everything felt familiar yet too good to be true, many thoughts had come across the Hisoka who was often blanked for words. Still, there was a thought that came to mind, one Homare must’ve figured the moment he saw, this face, this hair, and this daring smile, “This boy… he looks..” was all Hisoka could puzzle to say.

“Quite like you I know, I urge you to check the headline.” Homare pointed to the heavily and black inked words that stood above the page. 

**PRINCE DECEMBER, MANKAI’S PATRON OF HOPE, RUMOURED TO BE ALIVE!**

“When I first crossed paths with this piece, I thought, how preposterous! Many years have passed and that prince is most probably dead.” Homare rudely remarked, but even Hisoka could tell how his voice had become coarse at this emphasis of “dead.” 

“But didn’t you say….” Hisoka hesitated, “his brother claimed he was alive….” 

“I had, but what I’m saying is that we’re simply going to make this claim true,” Homare faced the paper’s sketch to him and held side to side by Hisoka’s face. “I desire you.”

Hisoka was not amused, after all he was a trickster, and only a fool would let his heart beat to the temptation of a sinner like him. Little did he know that the calm and collected Homare who stood before him was a nervous wreck. This wasn’t like him, he wouldn’t have racked his brain for that three word sentence, and that for the first time in his life Homare had never delivered his heart so weakly he was ashamed.

The room was nothing but a ballroom for the cold morning air to dance to. Clouds had formed in the sky with barely any specs of light to peak through. Despite the chatters from below them or in the halls, no one could possibly tell what had gone on inside this cramped room. One might assume that this was nothing but a lover’s quarrel or a squabble between friends, so anyone who passed would turn away and mind their own.

“Had I made you fall for me that it took your breath away? How silent, how intriguing... Had I swept your heart away? My, I might as well shout a verse to heal your pacing heart! Hah! _The devil’s ballad is a song of fate indulged in verses of anemones… each note, each hum, each somber tune is but the touch of the sinner and his muse._ HA!” Homare bursted, cheeks flushed, as his laughter had defied the silence of the room. Suddenly he took the ends of the cloth that restrained Hisoka’s hands and with a swift twist and pull he was free. Homare had turned and leaned to the wall, his palm on his face, while the other tightly clutched the bed, frozen in his original place.

A fool’s heart began to flutter with a simple twist of cloth.

A mind, seemingly all-knowing, had begun to feel distraught. 

Homare, who always had a plan, who’s mind was never far from art, and who never revealed his true character had finally lost it all to a thief who'd probably jabbed another knife to his neck. 

_I do not know, I cannot compromise… to seize this moment this time.. his eyes. Homare’s mind had jumbled._

Suddenly, a rain of gold had poured in the room leaving Hisoka stunned by Homare who’s face he could barely see as it was hiding by the shadows in contrast to the light that basked Hisoka in his place. Still like stars that built the sky, the pieces and trinkets shined as if they were stuck in an endless pit of space defying gravity and merely floating in its absence.

Homare, whose hand, palm open, faced Hisoka in the second it all dropped and began to shout, “I’ll leave you an offer you wouldn't forget.. take everything of what's present in this room and leave or become a man beyond your imagination and create endless ripples of possibilities!” 

“Why choose me-” Hisoka barely finished his phrase when Homare had spoken again, “..because you and I are apple’s that have rotten from the tree. There is nothing I am afraid to lose or give, a bargain would not be worth my time as I must gain and gain to survive.” 

“But what if it’s not?” Hisoka replied with his eyes becoming sharp, nearly piercing a whole into the sheets. Homare could not grasp what made him feel so different. Yet the man had rushed to him and pulled him by his collar to his eye level. 

“What if one day you’ll have to bargain for your life… at what lengths will you take to gain from a loss you’ll never get back?!” The man with his bejeweled emeralds eyes had become lethally poisoned like rotting grass as he clenched his teeth further giving strength to his fist clutching tightly to Homare’s clothes.

“I must’ve died like a martyr or even so- a saintly sacrifice yet still it remains that truthfully, I have no grudges nor wills to hold me back. In the end, I would still be lost in the vain of nothing and that would be my biggest gain.” Homare professed, yet Hisoka could not distinguish if it was the truth or a mere bluff. He had figured Homare was some kind of con artist from the way he had spoken and read into him yet there were bits of expressions that felt real and not from deception. 

He was still a virtuous man per say, to speak his truth to a stranger to gain their trust. Hisoka could not leave, his feet would not gravitate towards the door though his hands had surrendered and weakly he spoke, “I’ll … join you..” 

Homare had cheered, his eyes sparkled with delight, “So many ideas! such poetic tales we could tell, partners of crime… sinners of time… like a bullet to my heart, bang! I was caught… and like a briar rose we’d sleep under a hundred million golden stars that twinkle just for us.” 

“I quit. You’re getting on my nerves.” Hisoka grumbled. 

“Surely, you meant to say you loved me too!” Homare coaxed, resulting to a soft punch to his side; he could not suppress his laugh so he did.

Hisoka stared at Homare who was uncontrollably laughing on the floor as he muttered like a curse that one day, this man who felt the world had no place in his heart would feel the weight of his words. That he may retrace his words and know it’s truth, Hisoka did not know the value of life but he knew Homare had and that the fear lingers beneath his enigmatic.

_“I’ll curse your heart in the depths of my mind.” Hisoka chanted, and so he did._

* * *

It was two months later when Hisoka found himself left alone to a party full of strangers without him. 

Hisoka could not recount how many times he yawned as he gulped through endless amounts of wine after wine. No matter how much he drank he never came, he never called, and he never spoke nor could he see his cunning grin from afar. The plan was simple to follow but it was already past twelve and that was far from what they had agreed on. 

_“So who’s the poor guy you stole the ID from?” Hisoka asked as he scanned through the identification card Homare had given him. He was on the bed crossed legs piling and cleaning forged papers, money, newspapers, and weapons when he heard the bathroom door open to his surprise._

_“This piece of plastic is nothing but a sham, anyone could tell it's fraudulent.” It was Homare who had just come out of the bathroom and was still fixing his suit and pulling his white gloves. He walked towards Hisoka and pointed to the faulty seal next to the imprinted name of “Toga Shiki.”_

_“Now, with no more further dillydallying, I’ll hook you the gist. Myself and you, my dear Hisoka, will be infiltrating the highest of the high’s parties as businessman and butler. Must we arouse doubt and suspicion in the air to keep rumors alike flowing with the music.”_

Hisoka took a deep breath and buried his reserved demeanor to a much different and talkative one. He began his task by tapping some stranger from across the room and sticking them to web after web of his lies. “My father had found me along the palace grounds around eight years ago, he’d raise me like his own and had noticed I was quite skilled with the sword as if I were blessed with the hands of a palace knight!” he boasted speaking his bluffs with his voice so loud you could hear it from a far causing a crowd to form.

_“These rumors shall be one that speaks of Toga Shiki to the deceased Prince December to catch the eye of Prince April. After that, he’d most definitely will want to meet with us and with my utmost power, I will cover your history for our convenience. Then we’d be running off the countryside with a hundred million at our hand’s reach! Do me a favor, however, my briar rose, do not slip up.” Hisoka thought of what Homare had told him as well._

That night, everything had fallen so perfectly to these two men's grasps. Even so, hisoka had never implied that he was the prince, yet they had been caught to his words like a moth to a flame. The possibility, the timing, and the opportunity were all these people could think of that no one dared to contrast nor speak over him. Well, even if they tried to, Hisoka's story was ironclad with everything about him written to be so fitting as they had taken weeks to perfect.

Hisoka wanted nothing more but to find his place in this world, to find himself, but to do so would have to relieve the long painful memories that haunted him only to be silenced by his slumber. This world he’s created within the parameter’s of Homare’s is something so beautifully woven that it's hard to believe it's true like a dream far from his grasp. If it is one, and Homare was but a fiction of it all, he would still close his eyes and sleep. If it isn’t then he would let it be so as he twiddled his fingers with the string of fate so that the dream would become the world he lived in and bear no desire to wake up.

_“Must you feel tedious, search for me within the crowd and tap your ear. From that signal, we will take our leave.”_

The crowd had gathered even more aching to get to know more of this strange man with a past. Hisoka had gone on and one but his eyes had searched for but one single person among them all. There he was standing by a marbled pillar across the hall checking his pocket watch when his eyes met Hisoka’s. His devilish green taking a piss out of Hisoka who was starting to get tired, with a small tap by his ear, he started to approach them. 

“Master, shall we take out leave your father must be worried.” Homare had pleaded, his face seemed concerned. The crowd was starting to die down and the orchestra began to slow down its pace no longer following the flow of their words.

“Are you concerned for me? Quite.. scandalous.” Hisoka coaxed, barely able to recall his words.

“Ah, forgive me for my impertinence-” The latter hesitated, his hand by his heart as he slowly bowed.

“Worry not, I’ll let this slide.” Hisoka scoffed, he was past his limit already and Homare knew that as well as he guided him out of the hall.

The two, as small of the conversation was, had sparked more and more rumours just as they had intended as they left they had walked to a distant park trying to shake off anyone who would possibly follow them. When the coast was clear, they had sat on a bench and watched the skies that had nothing but stars accompanied by candlelight lamps hanging on trees. It had been a month or two since they had met yet every moment had felt like they’d known each for hundreds. 

“You were late.” Hisoka grumbled, crossing his arms and setting his eyes on the moon and its ever present glow. The loneliness it draws is quite bothersome, sometimes his heart had felt out and jumped but it has been different now. The moon no longer feels as lonely as it was before as Homare had held his chin and passionately kissed him before anyone would catch a glimpse of it. 

“Could that possibly make up for it?” Homare gasped still holding on to Hisoka chin, the distance on their lips still close. Hisoka was quite used to his antics had they been lovers on the run for days only the gods know. Everything he had done was born for the sake of Homare’s promise to run away to the countryside and do whatever the hell they wanted with the money they’d get. “No, another one.” Hisoka breathed and kissed him again crossing his hands on Homare’s nape. 

The stars had shined like gold beneath the blanket of the sky, and beneath it all two lovers had crossed their paths in a moment that felt too good to lose. As they locked their lips once more, a tear had fallen to the side of Hisoka’s, “I want to hold onto this moment, may nothing ever ruin it. This can’t be a dream, a long hazy one- may this moment never end. If anyone could hear I pray that this love will be blessed” he begged in the corners of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter so many times you could probably here me sobbing in between the words. Also, thank you for reading!


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